Page 575 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

Hearing us praise our loves of Italy
For beauty, that made barren the swell’d boast
Of him that best could speak: for feature, laming
The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva,

Postures, beyond brief Nature. For condition, [165]
A shop of all the qualities that man
Loves woman for, besides that hook of wiving,
Fairness, which strikes the eye.

CYMBELINE

I stand on fire.
Come to the matter.

IACHIMO
All too soon I shall,
Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus, [170]
Most like a noble lord in love and one

That had a royal lover, took his hint,
And (not dispraising whom we prais’d, therein
He was as calm as virtue) he began
His mistress’ picture, which, by his tongue, being made, [175]

And then a mind put in ’t, either our brags
Where crak’d of kitchen-trulls, or his description
Prov’d us unspeaking sots.

CYMBELINE
Nay, nay, to th’ purpose.

IACHIMO
Your daughter’s chastity (there it begins) −

He spoke of her, as Dian had hot dreams, [180]
And she alone were cold: whereat I, wretch,
Made scruple of his praise, and wager’d with him
Pieces of gold, ’gainst this (which he then wore

Upon his honour’d finger) to attain
In suit the place of’s bed, and win this ring [185]
By hers and mine adultery: he, true knight,
No lesser of her honour confident